


Covert Operation

by Kika988



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Get Together, M/M, sneaky Clint is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, Phil Coulson does not actually know everything... but what Phil doesn't know can't hurt him, right? </p>
<p>After all, what's a little sneaking around among spies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covert Operation

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thanks to Nienna for looking this over for me, but of course all mistakes are my own. This is my first official foray into writing for the Marvel fandom (!!!) so I'm pretty excited. Hope you like it!

“Please? Come on, I know you’re not doing anything tonight.” 

“Maybe I have a night of riveting reality television planned,” Coulson deadpanned. He really didn’t want to do what Clint was asking, but he knew he’d eventually give in because… well, it was Clint. 

“And you’ll have plenty of time for that after you help me,” Clint promised. “You know I don’t know how to dress up, and you have all your fancy suits so I know you--”

“Fine,” Phil interrupted. “Fine, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

“Thanks, sir,” Clint said, the sincerity in his tone causing warmth to rise in Phil’s chest. “This date is pretty important, you know?” Phil’s eyes fell shut as he pressed his lips together. There was the reason for his resistance. 

“I know,” he assured him. “I’m on my way,” he promised before hanging up. He allowed himself exactly thirty seconds to wallow, where he imagined it was a date with Phil that had Clint so worked up, before he pulled himself together, reminded himself exactly how far out of his league Clint was, and headed out the door. 

Clint had been talking about this date all week, trying Phil’s patience since Monday. It wasn’t that Phil wasn’t happy for him; he was, he firmly believed that if anyone deserved to be happy it was Clint. He’d had a hard childhood, harder than most could handle, and he’d somehow managed to not only survive it, but become one of the best men Phil knew. 

Of course, it was only made worse when, on Wednesday, he’d finally let a pronoun slip to let Phil know it was a man Clint was going out with. Phil had known that Clint was, at least in theory, bisexual, but had only ever seen him actually date women, so he could pretend on some level that it was his gender holding him back. Phil had been so wrapped up in that illusion shattering that he’d almost inadvertently hurt Clint; the archer had taken the moment of stunned silence as a negative reaction, so in his efforts to reassure him, Phil had told him that he himself was gay, a matter that would resolve at least 3 betting pools that he was aware of if Clint let that slip elsewhere.

It wasn’t a long walk to Clint’s apartment, but he didn’t want to make him late for his date so he flagged down a cab. He rattled off Clint’s address from memory easily, and spent the entire cab ride -- a mere five minutes, and he could have used a bit longer, if he was being honest with himself -- composing his best ‘agent’ face, pulling on the facade he was known for among junior agents at SHIELD: stoic and emotionless. 

He paid the cabbie and dug out a generous tip, fully aware that he was stalling. The man grinned a gap-toothed smile in thanks, and Phil trotted up the stairs, resisting the urge to linger in the hallway. He didn’t want to make Clint late, of course, but he also didn’t want to see Clint flushed and excited over a date Phil wasn’t the other half of. He reminded himself that he was a grown man, not a lovesick teenager, and rapped his knuckles against Clint’s door. 

The door swung open almost immediately to reveal a flushed and harried Clint. “Ties are such bullshit,” he said bluntly as he turned and stalked away, back toward his bedroom. Phil chuckled and shut the door behind him before following, swallowing hard as he took in what Clint was wearing. 

Clint was wearing a suit -- a tailored suit that Phil was fairly sure he recognized from a recent undercover op -- that was black, but it’s slight sheen made it appear a bit lighter than the black shirt he had on underneath. He gestured to the three slightly crumpled ties on the bed. 

“I’m not sure which one goes the best, and I can’t tie them right anyway. You know, none of the guys we capture ever care if the knots we tie are lopsided.” 

“To be fair, we tend to lean toward zip ties anyway,” Phil pointed out. He looked at the three ties -- all nice choices -- before turning back to Clint. HIs shirt had the top two buttons undone, revealing just a hint of collarbone if observed from the right angle. 

It was odd, seeing Clint like this; he and Phil had been on so many missions together, he’d seen Clint dressed in black-tie formal, in tac gear, in next to nothing. He always seemed comfortable, made whatever he was doing seem effortless, but here in his home he seemed more willing to let his true emotions show through, and right now he was painfully, obviously nervous. Phil had to squash a sudden surge of jealousy, envious of whoever had caught Clint’s eye, whoever had the chance to earn the right to enjoy this part of his life every day. He hoped they were worthy of all the stress Clint seemed to be experiencing.

“Leave the ties,” Phil said, hoping his voice came out steadier than it sounded to his own ears. Clint blinked at him in the mirror in surprise. “Are you going to a black-tie affair?” Phil asked incredulously. Clint laughed. 

“Do I strike you as being that classy? No, just dinner at a decent restaurant. But don’t people like ties and fancy shit for dates?” Phil pursed his lips and shook his head. 

“No -- well, maybe some, but… you look good. I mean, fine. You look relaxed,” he finally settled on. “Which is always good for a date.” Clint eyed him for a moment, and Phil stared back evenly at him, using every ounce of covert training he had to keep his smile bland. 

“What about the suit?” he asked, executing a slow turn in front of the mirror, showing off it’s exquisite fit from every angle. Phil took a deep breath when Clint was faced away from him, but had the bland smile firmly back in place by the time he faced him again. 

“Looks great,” he replied lightly. “Isn’t this from the mission in-”

“Cardiff, yeah,” Clint said, smirking. “What R & D don’t know can’t hurt them, right?” he added with a wicked grin. “I mean, you seemed to think it suited me, so it seemed like the logical choice.” Phil wasn’t sure how to respond to that; had he been that obvious in his ogling that night? He did his best to remain professional, but he was only human…

“This guy is classy, so much classier than me,” Clint was saying. He had turned back to the mirror and was fidgeting nervously with the lapel on the jacket. “He wears all these fancy tailored suits, and you know I’d just wear sweats every day if I could get away with it. But he makes me want to do better, you know? Not just with the clothes, either,” he added quickly, ducking his head. “Everything. Makes me wish I’d done some more school, like you suggested. He’s crazy smart, he might not want some dumb ex-carnie.”

“You’re not dumb,” Phil said, his reply coming out sharper than he had intended. Clint’s head snapped up to meet Phil’s eyes. “You try to hide it, but you know I don’t fall for that -- you’re brilliant, you have one of the best tactical minds in SHIELD, and that’s saying something,” he said firmly. “If this guy thinks you’re dumb, then he’s not as smart as you say he is.” Phil was cringing inwardly, worried that he’d given too much away, but Clint seemed oblivious. He huffed out a quiet laugh. 

“Come on, Coulson, you know I’m not all that. I’m just a smart-ass trigger finger.”

“Well, I won’t deny the smart-ass part,” Coulson agreed readily. “But you’re selling yourself short, Clint. You always do.” Clint’s eyes were on Phil now, his sharp gaze narrowed in on his face. His eyes were legendary for a reason; they could see from a distance, but they could also make you feel like you were being stripped bare when he chose to zero in on you. It was disconcerting and flattering all at once. 

“Well, I hope he believes at least part of that. I just can’t help but think he’s too good for me. I mean, he’s not just smart, Phil, he’s fucking hot,” he said, unable to hide his besotted grin. Phil felt himself dying a little inside, though he had a moment of gratitude over his complete awareness of his own physical failings -- it made disillusioning himself of any chances he might have against this guy that much easier. Phil was all too aware of his thinning hair, his slightly crooked nose (though to be fair, that was Clint’s fault), the little wrinkles that started appearing around his eyes a few years ago, all the physical signs that he was well on the wrong side of forty. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. 

“Listen, Clint. I know how much you like this guy -- you’ve been talking about this date all week,” he pointed out, smiling a little at Clint’s answering blush. “But you have to remember, he agreed to go on a date with you. He’s probably just as nervous as you right now, if not more so.”

Clint coughed and glanced away from Phil. “Right. Yeah. About that…” Phil’s brow creased in confusion, but he waited patiently for Clint to continue. “He actually doesn’t know about the date yet.” Phil frowned, processing that for a minute. 

“...I don’t get it. How will he--” And it didn’t make any sense, it made no sense at all, but he was a spy, and he’d been reading body language professionally long enough that it was hard to turn it off, so it was hard to ignore how Clint was blushing but being a little too obvious about maintaining eye contact, the slight lift of his eyebrows, the flared nostrils. “...Clint?” 

“I kind of thought you’d figure it out sooner,” Clint admitted, swallowing hard. “You know, super spy and all.” His tone was all bravado, but the fear of rejection was painfully evident in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you just ask?” Phil finally asked, after the silence stretched a bit too long.

“If I had, would you have said yes?”

“...probably not,” Phil admitted. 

“Why?” Clint asked, lifting his chin defiantly. 

“Because it’s… it’s unprofessional, and an abuse of my position of authority, and--”

“Not because you don’t want to, then.” Clint swallowed nervously, but stood his ground. “Sir… Phil. We both want this. I know I have for an… an embarrassingly long time,” he admitted with a small huff of laughter. “And I know you try not to, but I’ve seen how you…” He stopped, flushed, and looked down. “You look at me, and you know all about me, my history, and you still look at me like you want me.” Phil had taken a step forward before he realized he had done so. 

Clint looked up again, eyes bright and hopeful, and held out a hand. “Let’s just… pretend we don’t have to worry about work, okay? We can deal with all that later.” Phil glanced down at Clint’s hand, then back up to his eyes, so full of hope but so scared. He didn’t want to be the one to hurt him, and dammit, he wanted this too. He pushed all of his worries about SHIELD and their future there aside, and smiled as he reached out to take Clint’s hand. Some things were too important to not take a risk for.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Clint’s eyes widened. 

“Really?” 

Phil chuckled. “Yes, really. You’re right. I’ve been a coward.” He looked down at their joined hands and brushed his thumb lightly over Clint’s knuckles. “Though I wish I’d known, I would have dressed up a bit,” he added wryly. 

Clint’s eyes darted down to Phil’s shirt, open at the neck from where he’d taken off his tie at home. His eyes darkened and his lips drew up into a smirk. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Clint assured him. “Someone smart told me it makes you seem relaxed.” He tugged at Phil’s hand as he led them out of the apartment. “Also, it’s hot. I’ll be imagining licking that spot all night,” he added without turning around. 

“Well, that’s not fair,” Phil complained weakly as he was herded into the elevator. “Now I’ll be thinking about that too.” 

“Good,” Clint said, leaning in for a kiss as the doors slid shut. “That was the idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Follow me at feathers-n-freckles.tumblr.com for prompt fic updates and an obscene amount of Clint and Phil. Really, a ridiculous amount. I have a few more Clint/Phil fics in the works, so stay tuned!


End file.
